The United States of Sealand
by heyyl0
Summary: In 2047, after many hardships, Sealand ends up adopted as the son of the United States of America. America's happy to have his own boy to raise and make a hero, but sometimes when making a hero, one ultimately makes a villain instead.
1. Chapter 1: Waiting for an End

**Oh, my goodness. Here it goes…my first Hetalia story. *takes a deep breath***

**This is also my first story on this site since 2010, so I hope I'm not too shaky this first chapter. Criticism and helpful corrections are most certainly welcome!**

**Just as an FYI, the first two chapters or so are very angsty, but the story will get much cheerier later on. Enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>Every wave, regardless of how high and forceful it crests, must eventually collapse within itself." <em>

-Stefan Zweig

**United States of Sealand**

**Chapter 1: Waiting for an End**

In the year 2047, the Bates family finally left Sealand.

The announcement was made one quiet day in July, over the Internet, in a small obscure column of Sealand's obscure and outdated home website cluttered with news of repairs, winter storms, and obscene messages from one particular little carrot-top "Ladonian" boy with a penchant for hacking into the site. None of the members of the micronation's ruling family ever directly gave the reason for their sudden desire for departure from the former British fort. In the interviews with tabloids that actually cared about the self-proclaimed nation, the Bates spoke as if they were honorably conceding their home as a result of their complete surrender to Germany after the "Sealandic-German War of 2038": a war so difficult and so fearsome that no nation in the world even heard of it...not even Germany. That's what the Bates told the world that cared about them when in fact the real reason for leaving had nothing to do with a war at all.

In reality, the Bates left because Sealand was falling apart, literally. One hundred years were not kind to the place. The concrete pillars that held the nation up were slowly deteriorating, the metal framework of the fort was rusting more than ever, and the repairs made during the early part of the twenty-first century were falling apart. Back during those early years, repairs could be made and be expected to last at least five years; now, repairs were required every five months. Precious money was being spent in shipping costs for new supplies to rebuild rooms and platforms, and after the Sealandic football team was dismissed and honorable Sealanders gave up their citizenship for more exciting titles than "a citizen of a rusty fort", interest in Sealand diminished and fewer financial donations arrived. Not even the revenue from tourists traveling to see the quirky, antique sites of the world could cover the expenses of new metal paneling, lights, wiring, and the works. By 2040, there were already three rooms deemed "unsalvageable" by inspectors, because the family could not afford to repair them and let them go, and within seven years the number of neglected rooms rose to eleven. The last straw for the Bates was when one of the great-great-granddaughters of the Sealand's founder fell through the rusted floor of one of the bedrooms, broke her leg, and was taken to a British hospital via helicopter. Thus, to save their financial future as well as their lives and health, the family surrendered to Germany, packed, and left on July 7. They were at this point in time quite happy to leave.

They were so happy in fact, that they completely forgot about the little boy in a sailor suit watching them pack their belongings. The days after the announcement, while the family packed, he said nothing, and watched silently as the family he had known for all his life placed into boxes gifts he had given to his former bosses and drawings he had given to the children of these bosses, all while none of them acknowledged his existence.

The boy - the embodiment of the micronation himself, Sealand - had no desire to beg them to stay. It wasn't that he wanted them to leave - in fact, if he had his way, he would dump himself in a barrel of radioactive waste in order to gain a superpower that would enable him to both fix any fort forever and attract the attention of rich countries willing to donate or, better yet, recognize him - that way he could get a nametag from the United Nations as well as good amount of support money. He had dreamed for years of gaining national recognition and he tried his hardest to earn it - whether it was running a lemonade stand at world meetings or following France's advice of streaking through the meeting hall with the words "Recognize this!" written in marker on his chest (all this incident led to, Sealand recalled, was a hard-dealt slap in France's face by his adopted mother, a beating of France by his adopted father, and shocked, disturbed, angry, indifferent, and laughing faces of the other nations). He couldn't be recognized. He had to face the music, because his time had run out. His nation was falling apart, and one day, when the place collapsed, he would disappear along with the metal and concrete he had loved and repaired with bubble gum and washable glue.

Yet, he was happy to see the family leave before his end, because it meant they wouldn't be hurt. When the little girl who had fallen through the floor, named Sophie, had first cried out for help, he had been the first to climb down and reassure her that everything was going to be okay. He helped carry Sophie all the way to the waiting helicopter, and he held her hand singing a nursery rhyme to the four-year-old before she was airlifted away. When she returned, however, she could no longer recognize him. In fact, most of the family had already begun to forget him, even before they left. Sealand missed the years when all the Sealanders could talk to him and remember him - by the 2040s, he was no better off than Canada, perhaps even worse, when it came to his own citizens. It more than likely had to do with the fact that the family was slowly caring less and less for the micronation, he figured. Yet, recognition or not, he still loved and would always love the Bates family, and Sealand wanted nothing more than to see them safe. Sophie had been lucky. For all he knew, she could have fallen through the rusted barge floors all the way to the sea below. He was now dangerous to the family, and he caused too much stress for them. It was better that he let the members of the family of Paddy Roy Bates go rather than subject them to worry, without begging them to stay.

The family packed their bags quickly, and the day they left Sealand could be seen drinking out of a little juice box and sitting on a wooden crate while they loaded their possessions onto a waiting ship, which took all morning. He thought about helping them out, but hastily decided against it. They were doing fine on their own. After all the bags were aboard the ship, and a quick check assured nothing important had been left behind save for a few flags and unnecessary documents, Super Larry's son lowered the flag for the final time and gave a short speech on the history of the micronation, how it impacted world history, and what a shame it was that the nation failed. Sealand said nothing, and remained unfazed the entire time. He finished his juice.

Then, with a few last glances, the Bates family climbed aboard the ship and they sailed off towards "that jerk" England's place. None of them even saw Sealand sitting on the crate, not even Sophie, but that was okay - or at least, he looked as if it was okay on the outside. He didn't wave to them, or attempt to call them back. He just waited for the ship to disappear beyond the horizon. When the vessel disappeared from his site, he didn't cry. All his tears had already been cried out of him when the family stopped remembering him. However, he did feel suddenly a sense of wooziness and nausea and without even registering what was happening to him, he lost consciousness and fainted.

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><p>Three Months Later - October 3, 2047<p>

_Sealand sat up in the bed in his room while Finland set a tray filled with fresh soup, crackers, and a glass of orange juice._

"_Okay, Sealand, I've prepared for you your favorite meal!" he exclaimed in a very sing-songy voice he'd been using more often around Sealand recently. "Kesäkeitto with animal-shaped crackers and orange juice! Enjoy!" He punctuated the last sentence with a smile, and waited for the boy to begin eating while the family dog, Hanatamago, waited with him._

_Sealand gave a warm, soft smile to his adopted mother. __Kesäkeitto was actually more of his adopted mother's favorite dish, but he had recently taken a liking to it, and once he said, "I like it," it was automatically registered as Sealand's favorite meal in Finland's mind. Finland did nearly anything to please him ever since the day the Bates left and Finland traveled to the abandoned fort and found the micronation slumped over a crate unconscious and sickly. He and Sealand's adopted father, Sweden, brought him immediately to the nearest hospital, where Sealand recovered for the next few days. Since then, Sealand hadn't been the same. He was now weak and had difficulty walking, and he could no longer eat heavy meals without getting sick. He was nearly completely bedridden._

_He knew he was dying. Although his parents smiled all the time around him, he knew that they knew he was nearing his end and that they only attempted to be happy around him to cheer him up in the face of death. Sealand knew that as he sat, watching the twenty-sixth Pokemon movie on his 4D television set while slurping Finnish soup and munching on crackers, his nation was falling apart, and piece by piece of it was dropping into the ocean. He appreciated the effort by the two Nordics to make him feel pampered and loved, but neither love nor nurturing could save him. His home was beyond repair-even Sweden's and Finland's attempts to find a repairman capable enough to save him were in vain. It was just a matter of waiting till the end…_

"_How is it, Sealand?" Finland asked, jolting him from his thoughts. Bright, gentle violet eyes that Sealand had long found comfort in prompted him to answer._

"_It's great, mother. It's just as good as always. Thank you!"_

_Finland seemed satisfied with the answer, and ruffled the micronation's hair with a smile. "That's my boy!"_

"_Yes, that's our boy indeed," a voice boomed out._

_Finland turned to greet the owner of the voice. "Ah, isn't he, Sweden! Welcome back!" He embraced Sweden in a soft hug, only to be bombarded with a tight bear hug back. Sealand smiled at the sight of his parents hugging and kissing in greeting as they usually did. He wondered if they would be the same after he was gone…_

_Then, just before Sweden went to greet him, for a split second, time seemed to pause. Sealand gazed into the faces of his beloved adopted parents as they smiled at him with all the love the world, and he smiled right back. He was so happy, and life was so simple. How wonderful would it be for this happy moment to last forever? In that second, Sealand decided that if the rest of his life was filled with happy memories of his parents, he would not mind the fact that in a short time, he would be gone. Maybe…_

_Then, suddenly, his bowl of soup slipped out of his hands and spilled, and a puddle of it accumulated on the floor. His parents didn't seem to notice, as they kept smiling at him as if nothing had happened. Without knowing why, Sealand suddenly had the urge to clean up the mess himself rather than ask his parents to help as he usually did in situations like this. He knew there were paper towels in the kitchen, and as he moved to get off the bed, his found that his feet stepped into water up to his knees instead of the puddle he had seen earlier. Worse still, the water level was rising._

_His parents didn't notice as the small lake that had filled his room continued to rise. Sealand ran to the door, but realized that in his physical weakness and lack of practice with walking, he found himself stumbling to just stay upright-the rising water didn't help his balance either. After falling down about five times, he made it to the door with the water level up to his neck. As he attempted to turn the knob, he realized that the door was locked. Terrified, he called out to his parents. "Mom...Dad! Help me!" Both parents kept smiling and standing as if the room was as dry as the Sahara._

_Suddenly, Sealand felt the floor under him disappear, and his parents disappeared under the water. Sealand swam to the ceiling where the last air pockets were diminishing, and within a few seconds, all air in the room was gone. Desperately, Sealand swam down, only to realize his furniture and the windows had disappeared. With this realization, he frantically banged on the door, hoping someone would rescue him. Maybe Denmark could help him! Or Norway. Iceland. Wy. Molossia. Even Ladonia. Anybody!_

_With one last pound, he felt his energy give way, and he felt his last breath of air escape as pain filled his lungs and his consciousness began to fade…_

_..._

_..._

Gasp!

Sealand awoke as a small downpour of rain trickled in through the rusty rooftop against a backdrop of a gray-blue sky set above him. He felt a crick in his neck as he sat up from his makeshift bed made of a crate and spare laundry sheets he found in an extra room at his place.

He got up, and walked carefully through the rooms of his home at the sea fort, not paying too much attention to the dream he'd just escaped from, simply because it was the same dream he'd been having for the past six days since he had been sold by Sweden's government for money to alleviate his papa's stomachache-also known as a recession.

The micronation remembered it clearly: after Sweden smacked his boss in the head for the Internet transaction, the older nation had promised Sealand that he would try to buy him back again. Until then, his father's boss - speaking with a throbbing bump on his head - ordered Sealand to stay out of the country. The dreams had started that night. Then, five days later - which was the day before Sealand woke up that morning - Finland's boss, who was not interested in keeping a rusty old British fort and was simply quite a rude man with a bad childhood experience, hadn't approved of Finland letting a child run about in Helsinki and thus a very violent fistfight between his mother and his boss was instigated. It was all simply too much emotion for Sealand to take, and so he ran away to his own home - what better place to hide out then his own country?

He watched every step as he walked. Most of the boards in the place were rusting, and one false step might mean a two story drop for him. After navigating through the empty, rusty rooms he finally found the door that led outside and with a bit of strength, he opened the door which opened with a clinking sound, and he walked silently towards the edge of the fort, and climbed over the edge to prepare for a morning dive into the sea to search for a fish to eat.

He took off most of his clothes, leaving only his underwear on. It wasn't the first time he'd dived into the sea, plunging himself dozens of feet into the cool waters of the ocean below to search for a fish to cook and eat. It was a way in which he used to please the rulers of his country by cooking up fish nuggets to surprise them on their birthdays, or to feel like a part of the family while they cooked dinners that he used to eat along with them. That was back in the day when he felt he was still useful.

At the edge of the cliff, Sealand stood, once again. Taking a deep breath, he looked below and for a while he felt a twinge of fear, remembering his dream. Looking at the blue, he suddenly wondered what dying in it would be like in reality. Would he drown immediately? Was his drowning in his dream foreshadowing what would happen to him when his micronation fell into the sea? Was drowning destined to be the means of his death?

In those moments of thought, he feared the water, but only for a few seconds. After all, his growling stomach spoke louder than his thoughts. With aged agility, he leaped off of the barge - a small blue blip against the grayed air, and he felt the same great thrill he always did. He felt the air whoosh around his eyes and through his hair, he closed his eyes, and within a few seconds he felt himself plunging through the surface of the ocean.

The high dive might normally have caused a few fractures to a human, but to a nation the fall was as simple as a dip into a normal swimming pool. He opened his eyes and gazed at the endless blue that surrounded him. Plankton floated past him before he took off swimming around, looking for a nice tasty cod. Sealand felt joy in his heart as he swam, not just because he loved the sea tremendously but also because to him the sea represented peace and stability-the ocean never changed, unlike his life. The little plankton that swam never had to worry about eBay or losing families. They always had tons of sea life friends to support them, no matter what. Money never mattered to them.

After searching for a while - since he'd been able to train himself over the years to hold his breath underwater for a good two minutes by pretending to be Aquaman - and with no luck, he decided to head back up to the surface for a breath of oxygen. Just as he turned upward to swim upward, his peripheral vision caught a shadow coming from the surface of the ocean about one hundred kilometers away. At first glance, Sealand saw a fish, but after a while he realized that it was moving too fast for a fish.

"_What's that?_" Sealand thought. He swam closer to the surface, his heart slightly faster than it had before, and he tried to stay a good distance away from the shadow so he wouldn't be spotted. It was better to be concealed than be sorry, of course. Upon further inspection, Sealand realized that it was a very large object. After a while, he noticed that it was moving towards his home, and as it creeped closer Sealand could soon hear the sound of a boat propeller slowing down, and when it reached the pillars of his home, the object stopped.

"_The Bates? Have they come back?_ he wondered. "_Or is it Finland or Sweden telling me I'm coming home again?_" Joy overtook him as he put happiness before the safety rules - the ones he'd learned from England and his adopted parents - and swam upward to see the occupants of the boat. As he broke to the surface and took the breath of oxygen he had nearly forgotten in his suddenly awoken hope that he would see his family again, he looked at the mysterious stranger whom was now shooting a grappling hook to the edge of the rusty fort with a small bundle on his back, with a very dangerous look. He was light-skinned with messy dark hair, and was incredibly skinny. He wore a white t-shirt and sweatpants - odd for a traveler to his nation - and worn sneakers. His bundle, with the appearance of a backpack, looked incredibly heavy, yet the stranger didn't seem to mind the extra weight as he repelled expertly up the pillar of Sealand using just his hook.

It was certainly not Finland or Sweden, or Hanatamago. It was not any of his fellow micronation friends. It wasn't any of the nations. It wasn't the Bates. This was a normal human, and a crazy-looking one - the kind that looked too sinister to be a good person. This man looked like he was going to change his micronation, for the worst.

Sealand decided right there and then that he had to stop this man, and he swam quietly towards the fort.

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><p>Okay, phew! Thank you for reading it through to the end!<p>

Again, this is my first Hetalia fanfic, so I hope I did fine...If I made any mistakes (with the characters, places, facts, etc.), please let me know. Even a few grammar or diction suggestions would be fine - I don't have a beta after all! America will appear later. :)

Reviews are very welcome!


	2. Chapter 2: Like a Hero

I am so sorry for not updating sooner! *bows down to all who still have this story on alert or in their favorites* Simply too much has happened since I last updated (AP tests, my transition from high school student to college freshman, college prep…) and yet my guilt has been pushing me to continue this. Again, sorry for the huge wait!

I promised America, and here he is, along with England. Enjoy! Remember that this is taking place in a futuristic setting. I'm also trying to keep a comic book-esque style going, so please make sure to leave feedback as to how I'm doing with that!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, but if I did, I would be very content!

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><p><strong>The United States of Sealand<strong>

_**Although little Sealand feels like a superhero trailing after the strange intruder, little does he know that two other nations have already beaten him to the punch, which he would have clearly seen had he turned back and seen the second boat following the first…**_

**Chapter 2: Like a Hero**

_About two hours earlier, on the English coast…_

"Oh, for Lord's sake, America, quit slouching in your seat…and quit eating so aggressively! You're spraying syrup everywhere!"

"Aw, come on, England! Why do you always have to order me around at least once when I come to visit you? Lighten up!"

A nearby waiter turned to them with a confused face. This waiter thought for an instant how strange it was that this pair of companions - or brothers perhaps – referred to each other with nations' names. _'Must be some strange fad,'_ he thought. And without another word, he left them to their squabble.

One of the two men - the younger-looking one with glasses, cowlick on his head and an overbearing sense of pride and rebellion - did straighten up in his seat but continued to eat out of his English breakfast plate sloppily, ignoring the complaints of the other man while he defended his style of eating. "I'm not that messy."

His companion, the one and the only England, whose haughtiness seemed to resonate throughout the small diner he was sitting in, even in the early hours of the morning, continued to eat out of his own plate of eggs, waffles and toast - provided by Sam's Seaside Diner - with gentlemanly manners. He paused to respond to his ally America only until after he had thoroughly chewed and swallowed a bite of waffle. "You're not that messy, then? Well, explain all those little stains of maple spotting your shirt and face." He smiled a little as he sipped on a glass of orange juice before giving a taunting laugh. "By the way, you've got a little something on your cheek, and on your hair, and shirt."

America touched his cheek only to realize that half his face was covered in crumbs and fresh maple syrup. He wasn't normally this reckless an eater, was he? "Ah, geez…" he sighed. He reached over to pick up a napkin, only to find out the dispenser was empty. "What? Aw, that sucks." Seeing as how he had no long sleeve to wipe on, he located the waiter at the front desk of the diner. "WAITER, CAN YOU COME OVER HERE?! WE NEED MORE NAPKINS!" Most of the occupants of the diner turned their heads towards him.

England gave an exasperated sigh. "America," he started through gritted teeth, "don't make a scene. Go up to the man at the front desk and ask him…with courtesy."

"Ok, dude!" The American got up from his seat and walked towards the now-disturbed English waiter at the register. "May I get a bunch of napkins for our table, buddy?"

The old waiter sighed. "Yes, I'll bring some right away. Please wait here, sir…"

As America waited for the waiter to return, he looked out the window to see the sea, the dock and the people who walked by the front door of the diner. He also chanced to glance at the sky quickly darkening as if a storm was approaching. It was just after lunch, and many of the fishermen were busy docking their boats and unloading morning catches while prepping for the storm. The nearby beach was already clearing of visitors as the unpleasant weather approached.

The diner itself was fairly quiet – only a few customers sat and finished breakfast. This was only the second time he had visited this particular eatery, the first being after an unsuccessful fishing trip England had dragged him to once.

America wasn't sure why exactly he had felt inclined to return to this place on this particular morning. A few days earlier, out of the blue and rather impusively, he suddenly had the urge to call England and arrange to meet there for breakfast - feeling almost as if he _had_ to be there for reasons unexplainable - which prompted a short-lived argument between the allies ("Really, America, we haven't been to Sam's in years…""No, dude, just trust me on this!"). What called him here, the young nation didn't know. Perhaps it was some strange instinct some nations were rumored to feel before something catastrophic, or amazing, occurred, bringing a bit of worry to his mind, or maybe…just maybe…his hero's destiny was calling him to Sam's. Maybe...

"No, I'm telling you, I'm going out to Sealand right now. I assure you, it's there."

America suddenly jolted at the stranger's voice which seemed to appear out of nowhere. It appeared to belong to a quiet man sitting not far from the door, in a brown trench coat and large fishing hat, speaking in a suspicious manner into an iWatch 17.0 – the only watch that provided both hologram internet and phone services, and one of the most advanced models at that. "It should be an easy job. The place is completely abandoned now, no more security left there so no one should see me… I know what it looks like…yes…But are you sure you want me to go to that extreme? You really need it that badly? Okay, fine then. Expect a full report in three hours…Right, Hansen out."

With that, the man suddenly got up, left his tip on his table, and walked out the door without another word said. "_That guy looked like a villain_," America thought. _"Yeah, because that's how most bad guys in movies behave before committing some sort of crime, right? Acting suspicious…trench coat…weird conversations, that guy had all the works!"_ For a few moments, the country of freedom contemplated whether it was a good idea to pay so much attention to this man, assumingly called Hansen, and to let his imagination wander; America knew he had a tendency to exaggerate at times, according to most nations he knew, but he felt he had good intuition somewhere in him when it was needed, and right now he had a bad feeling about all he had heard, and it felt very real as far as he was concerned. The American's hero sense was tingling…his hero sense – like Spidey sense: the sense that something was wrong or about to be wronged in his universe. _"Just like how I felt all those days ago…I felt as if I needed to come here for some reason…"_

Without even noticing, America felt his feet suddenly pick him up and move him towards the door. _"That guy looked far too strange to be just a_ _tourist_…and_ I'm a supposed to be_ _the hero…" _ Still lost in his thoughts, America pushed the door open and relocated the man with his eyes. "_Superheroes always get themselves in trouble through weird coincidences and intuitions in the comic books…" _The speed of his walking picked up as he pursued the stranger making his way to the lower dock, pushing past people opening up their umbrellas as the first few drops of drizzle fell and made their way upon America's determined face. "_And now it seems I've got myself wrapped up in my own comic book now."_

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><p>England sat quietly as he waited for America to return with napkins. He also pondered as to whether the American's mental health was completely in order this particular morning. After all, first he begged him to eat at a place they hadn't visited since the 2030s - with such urgency that England feared for a few seconds that his close ally and friend would be on the verge of destruction if he <em>didn't<em> go - and then he follows up by acting like the childish American he'd known since…as long as he could remember. It was certainly odd behavior, even for America, and he decided he needed definitely to ask what was wrong when he returned…

However, just as he finished these thoughts he saw outside the windown the subject of his musings running towards the dock. "America…" he whispered with a hint of anger in his voice. "What are you up to now?"

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><p>A small white speed boat was the focus of America's eyes as he watched the mysterious man board it. Next to his boat, a group of senior citizens worked to unload an ice chest while complaining about the light rain. America, from his hiding position behind a closed tackle shop, knew he had to act fast…<p>

"What in the world are you doing, America?! Why are you…?"

In shock, America covered – or slapped, really – the mouth of England who had just appeared behind him. "Shh! Quiet," he whispered. "This guy was from the diner, I overheard this weird conversation he had, and I think he is up to something, something weird, and I feel as if I've got to stop him. Ever since last night, I've felt as if I needed to stop something rotten here in England, or maybe rescue something…"

England pulled America's hand off. "Rescue something?" The look on England's face was more of an annoyed one instead of the amazed one America had expected from him at the thought of America's heroic intuition.

"Yeah, dude." America turned back to the boat. The man turned the ignition, prompting a strange glance from the group of elderly friends who probably thought he was crazy for going out to sea while a storm approached.

England rolled his eyes. "Ugh, you're such an idiot. Is that what you called me out here for? To play sidekick to you while we prance around in the drizzle like a couple of simpletons?" One of the elderly men seemed to call out to Hansen, perhaps in a last minute warning of the darkening clouds, to which Hansen gave a short answer and finished prepping the boat, giving no thoughts to any impending weather danger. America also noticed the key to the elders' boat was left haphazardly on the ice chest a good ten feet from the elders.

"America, it's probably nothing. He's probably going to park his boat somewhere, now will you just get your arse out of here so mine doesn't get soaked by the rain?"

Hansen's boat took off, and at an abnormally fast speed at that. America's heroic intuition kicked in once more, and for the second time that morning, his body was prompted to act before his mind could.

"I can't believe we had to interrupt breakfast, and I had to pay the bill in full. You owe me for that expensive meal you ordered, and…America, are you listening to…meee?!" Without even being able to form a second cohesive sentence, England felt himself go into a state of shock as America suddenly grabbed the collar of England's jacket and took off in a sprint while dragging the poor Englishman behind him. The elderly men hadn't even processed the strange sight of the two men rushing towards them when the American suddenly snatched up the keys to their boat, picked up the England - with the bushiest eyebrows they'd seen in quite a while, they would tell the police reports - and climbed into their boat, dragging England over assorted boxes with fishing gear and into one of the passenger seats at the front.

England was still in shock as he cried out weakly, "America, what…?" Yet, his cry was drowned out by the sound of a roaring boat engine and the angry shouts of the elderly fishermen. Without an answer, the boat was suddenly moving at a speed that couldn't have been safe, even for a nation.

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><p>So it was that England was forced to strap into his seatbelt and hang on for the ride. Off they traveled, trailing Hansen's boat from a distance so as to not alert him to their presence. They careened over the open sea for hours, both faces occasionally dampened with the few drops of drizzle that made it past the boat's canopy, with America's eyes set in determination and never being faltered by the sight of the approaching storm or the possible dangers that waited ahead…or the Englishman's angry yelling, first in protest, then in scolding, then in warning, then finally into complaining.<p>

"We are going to be arrested and put behind bars as soon as we get back, I know it. Of course, I never deserved any of this nonsense. I was being kind and giving into your request to have breakfast this morning, all for your silly reasons of course. 'Oh, England, let's go eat breakfast on Saturday at Sam's. I don't have a legitimate, sane reason to do so. Oh, no, I just want to eat there, not break your laws and go on a wild goose chase. It'll be so much fun, England!' I feel stupid just thinking about how blindly I was led into this whole mess, this boat theft. Yes, that's what you did, America, you _robbed _a few helpless citizens. So much for your sense of justice…"

"Oh, be quiet," America said with a sigh. "Look, England, I told you," America paused to check on the boat a few hundred feet in front of him, still unaware of his presence, "I really think this guy is up to something criminal. This is exactly what I've been feeling concerned about for the past few days. It's this instinct I have."

"Like hell your instincts are always correct…"

"Will you just trust me on this?" America's grip tightened on the steering wheel, with only his experience with navy training keeping him from losing his cool. "Look, I know we're going to face consequences when we get back, and I'm sorry for that, but if this guy – his name is Hansen, I think, by the way – really is a criminal, I think it'll be all worth the broken rules if we stop him."

England shut his eyes for a few seconds, taking a deep breath, before opening his eyes again to meet America's gaze. "I hope you know that you are absolutely insane, and I'll be laughing wholeheartedly when it's proven that your 'hero's instinct' is nothing but a load of…"

"Wait a minute…" America's attention was suddenly diverted to Hansen's boat, or at least, what it was headed to. The distinct outline of a sea fort was easy to make out in the distance as the faint rain seemed to die down for the time being. The boat seemed to slow as it approached the structure.

"Isn't that Sealand?" England asked incredulously. "I can't believe we came all this way just to see some man visit this old place. He is probably just some antique collector or tourist or someone who needs to salvage metal to sell for a quick pound or two."

"Well…" America had no other words to add to that. It was odd that their suspect would target this old fort, which held little value now other than the worth of scrap metal. He remembered that long ago, a little micronation had lived here, but the memory of him was now very blurred. "I still think we need to keep an eye on him."

"Fine, fine," England replied. "Might as well, seeing as we're in the middle of nowhere and we'll be found by the police in just a short while. We'll wait for their enthusiastic and warm greeting," he added without concealing the sarcasm in his voice. America turned off the boat a good distance away from Sealand, and the two nations watched as Hansen stopped his boat next to a pillar, threw up a grappling hook and used it to repel up to the top.

A few minutes passed with neither nation moving or saying a word before America proclaimed, "I'm going to swim over there and climb up to follow him."

England's expression turned into a cross between astonishment and anger. He glared at America in fury. "No, no, you are not! We're already in trouble for theft and now you want to add stalking charges to that list?"

"I need to see what's going on inside," America said as he took off his jacket. "Hm, do you think I should swim with these shoes on?"

"You shouldn't swim at all!"

"Shoes it is, then!" America decided for himself with a grin, ignoring England's plea. "England, do me a favor and watch over the boat for me. I'm going to go kick some villain butt!" With that, America jumped into the waters of the ocean and took off swimming for Sealand.

"AMERICA!" England shouted. England considered steering the boat to block America's path or pull him back into the boat himself by some means other than swimming - he wasn't much of a swimmer, after all - but then he realized that once something clicked in his impulsive and stubborn ally's mind, England was almost always a failure in changing it, and now was more than likely no exception. Realizing he had little to do other than keep an eye on the fort, he called out to America, "Take care of yourself!" and sat down. _"You wanker..."_

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><p><em><strong>As America heads over to the fated sea port and his "partner in crime" England stands guard by their means of getaway, a very curious Sealand climbs the pillar up to the top of his rusty namesake and follows Hansen, hoping for some answers.<strong>_

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><p>Sealand peeked his head over the railing silently, checking first to see whether or not the intruder was in a position to spot him. When he saw that he had his back turned to the micronation he took a closer look at him, a tan trench coat-wearing, thirty-something-year-old with a gray beanie cap and brown khakis, standing not far across the remains of the old helicopter landing. His face was heavily tanned and he was definitely in need of a shave, Sealand noted. He seemed to be bewildered, looking at a map of the micronation he had taken out of his coat pocket. Without another word and turning on a flashlight he had been holding in his hands, he moved quickly and entered the old greeting hall. Sealand climbed over the edge of the landing and followed him, all while trying to stay as quiet as a secret agent. Silently, he stalked the man through his place, following the man through the halls, past the room where the museum once was, through the dining hall, and to the floor where some of the Bates' rooms were located, all the while trying to keep from crying out every time the rusted floor cut him through the soles of his bare feet.<p>

Soon, the man stopped in front of one room: Super Larry's old royal office. Without a word, opened the door and entered. _"What does he need in there?"_ Sealand wondered. He crawled slowly to the entrance of the door, and peeked one side of his head into the room.

It was mostly empty, and very dark, with only dim light from the cracked, dusty window and the white beam of the man's flashlight illuminating what was left in the old quarters of his former boss. The soft, carpeted floor where he had played with his toys and drawn pictures was now covered in mildew, and only some of the cabinets, two chairs, one rusty fire extinguisher, and a few cardboard boxes remained in a room that meant so much to his early years.

The man walked over to a nearby cardboard box and pulled out a pocket knife. He sliced through the seal and found nothing but a few books. The intruder tried this on the rest of the boxes and found nothing but broken picture frames, some odds and ends, and office supplies. Finding nothing, he resorted to checking the wall behind the desk, putting his ear to it and rapping it with his knuckles. When it seemed nothing was to be found in the wall, he searched around the desk and then suddenly stopped. He looked intently at a small hole in the ground, which seemed to be some kind of latch. It was then Sealand remembered this particular spot– he had noticed it once when he was driving a remote-controlled car under his boss's desk back in the early 2000s, and he had ended up inquiring about its purpose out of curiosity, to which Super Larry had answered frankly, "It holds the desk in place, and it keeps some work documents for storage." He had completely forgotten about it until now!

However, for something that was supposed to be strong, rust had certainly weakened it enough now for the man to cut through the latch with his knife and swing open it to find a small storage hole in the floor. He pulled out of it old documents that had little value at the present - some scripts from Super Larry's radio broadcasts, unused coupons, paper scraps – whch he tossed to the side. Then, he reached down and grabbed one of the deeper folders, a thick yellow one with a red stamp on the side of it. The man beamed the flashlight onto this particular find and gave a closer look at the seal, and slowly his face began to beam with a look of pride. "There you are. You do exist…" he whispered to it, as if it was a newborn child to whom he was professing his hopes and dreams. With the file in hand, the man started walking towards the door to exit.

Sealand felt a little bit of anger as he got up to hide from the approaching man, now the thief. _"Yes, that's what he is, a thief! How dare he take something that belonged to…"_

Before he could finish his thoughts or attempt to formulate a plan as to how to stop the culprit, he suddenly felt his knee giving in through the rusted floor and falling through it, landing on the floor below with a bang.

"The hell?!" he heard the intruder shout. Sealand looked up to see a pair of hazel eyes staring down at him through the newly formed hole in the floor above with rage. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Sealand screamed as he quickly got up and ran through the hall, with some blood trickling down his leg from the fall, hoping to hide himself in one of the storage rooms he knew was located on this floor. He heard the thump of the man as he jumped down and pursued him and got closer with each step. However, Sealand managed to find the room, which was filled with many boxes. He clambered over some of the boxes and found an old dresser in the back, hidden by rows and rows of stacked boxes, and he quickly entered it and closed the door. Holding his breath, he stayed silent even as the sound of the intruder's footsteps penetrated the musty, cold air and walked closer and closer...

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><p><em><strong>Will the intruder find Sealand hiding in the storage room? Will America meet Sealand...or the intruder...first? Will this all end in cold blood? Tune in soon for another exciting adventure of...The United States of Sealand!<strong>_

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><p>AN: And cue the cheesy bold narration (which will play a major role in the future, hint hint)! Forgive me for another cliffhanger! I'll be sure to update more often on this story now. Prepare for some more action in the next chapter! Also, please review this story! Feedback is my best friend, bad or good.


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